Before I move on, here is my favorite question of the day: Ross asks "Mom, who has more honor: the president of the United States or the guy who gets to wash Heavenly Father's dirty socks?"
I of course replied "The guy who washes Heavenly Father's socks."
Last night was the Young Authors Book night thing at the schools where they display all the books and give out awards to all the kids who wrote them. I've never bothered to go to one of these things before, but this time (excuse a little brag here) Mark's book was one of the 18 out of about 600 books in our district chosen to go on to the county level. Whoot Whoot for Markus Parkus! I was working on one of my many many many house projects, this time it was sanding the drywall on the kitchen ceiling. Let me tell you, sanding drywall sucks, but doing the ceiling is infinitely worse! Such an awful mess! Anyway, I had not quite left myself enough time to clean up the mess, shower and grill some sandwiches quick for dinner before time to rush off to the school. So I was all in a hurry and Bruce calls me on the phone and says
"Renae, what happens every Thursday at out house at 5:00?"
"I've no idea. What?"
"Come on, EVERY Thursday at 5:00."
"I don't know. What?"
"Every Thursday at 5:00 someone comes over to our house. I'm following him down the street right now."
"OH CRAP! Piano lessons!"
I totally forgot that I was supposed to be giving a piano lesson. What an idiot. I quick brushed the dust off my face and gave a lesson. Bruce was the best and made sandwiches right after having been at work all day. We rushed around and did make it on time after all.
Anyway, Mark got his award. And true to his chick magnetism, he spent a good deal of time running away and hiding from no less than five girls from his class who were clearly in pursuit. It was too funny.Ross also did a very good book which he actually spent quite a bit of time on. Though he didn't get to go on to county, he deserved it. He really did a good job.
And just for fun here's Fat Guy in a Little Coat:
Storytime: Breaking Bones - When I was in third grade, I wanted nothing more than to break a bone. I didn't care if it was a foot, leg, wrist, or arm--I just wanted an injury that wou...
2 months ago